


Homesong

by roxaneros



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: CF Route, F/M, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Squirting, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28594482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxaneros/pseuds/roxaneros
Summary: “There’s a man waiting for you at the stage door, Miss Arnault,” one of the dancers whispered to her as she was wiping the last of the makeup from her face. “Shall I send him away, or…”“Which man?” Dorothea asked. “The Viscount, or…?”“The mercenary,” the dancer giggled.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	Homesong

**Author's Note:**

> amab language used for Felix

“There’s a man waiting for you at the stage door, Miss Arnault,” one of the dancers whispered to her as she was wiping the last of the makeup from her face. “Shall I send him away, or…” 

“Which man?” Dorothea asked. “The Viscount, or…?”

“The mercenary,” the dancer giggled. 

“Tell him I’ll be out in ten minutes.” 

Dorothea closed the door to her dressing room once again. She had just finished a long show. Her voice was tired and her feet were sore. Even so, she swiped a fresh coat of dark red over her lips before she left. 

“How was the performance?” she asked as she tugged her arm through one sleeve of a long fur coat. Felix pushed himself off of the wall where he’d been leaning. 

The street behind the Mittelfrank Opera House was dim and lit only by a single lantern. It was a longstanding tradition for the singers to meet with the Enbarr nobility here discreetly after a performance, so that they could be hustled off into carriages away from prying eyes. 

“Well sung,” Felix said, short and clipped as always. “Your technique in the final aria was outstanding. But the tenor could barely stay on pitch during your duet.” 

Dorothea smiled and took his arm. 

“The conductors always complain that they can find no male lead to match me,” she laughed. “He’ll be gone in a month. Our usual lead tenor is out with vocal strain.” 

“It’s your range. They cannot measure up,” Felix said, face perfectly blank, nearly clinical. 

“Take me somewhere?” Dorothea asked sweetly. 

“Tell me about the new librettist,” Felix said, as though agreeing to a bargain. 

Dorothea’s lovers usually took her to the finest restaurants in Enbarr. She would nibble on tender morsels of beef, drenched in cream and butter, trying not to upset her stomach. Men would offer her oysters, hoping it would awaken her lust for them. 

In the fine restaurants, they dined in private rooms or sheltered booths with curtains drawn. The men would claim infatuation, jealousy, a desire to have her all to themselves. It was a pretty little game, a softer way to say that they were ashamed to be seen with her. 

Felix always took her to strange places. He only turned up in Enbarr perhaps once or twice a year, in between jobs that took him across the continent. Always perfectly timed to the week after a new opera debuted at the Mittelfrank. 

And he took her to tiny food stalls in the backwater parts of the harbor, to a Duscur restaurant in what looked like a woman’s tiny home kitchen, a Dagdan noodle shop where they ate on a long bit of ship’s planking converted into a counter. 

That night he took her to a tiny cafe, packed with Morfis traders smoking something savory and strange. They ate spiced lamb with plum sauce and Dorothea regaled him with stories of the opera, the new costumer, the song they had cut from the third act where the long suffering nun makes a prayer to Saint Cethleann. 

Felix drank it in. Dorothea did most of the talking, but she could see by the tiny occasional twitch of his mouth that he was enraptured. 

After dinner and a not insignificant amount of wine, they ended up in Dorothea’s city apartment, as usual. She unlocked the door as he dragged the fur coat from her shoulders, running calloused palms down her arms, tracing the small of her back. He always let her kiss him first. 

Felix was unlike her other lovers in this way as well. He let her lead. He attended to her pleasures, instead of merely racing to fulfill his own. They did not speak directly about this part of their relationship often. Felix seemed to find such conversation pointless at best. 

But he was never ashamed of what they were doing. If anything, he was more self-conscious. The first few times she had invited him into her bed, he had left his shirt on, using his hands to pleasure her and eventually, somewhat uncomfortable, reaching a hand between his own legs to take care of himself. 

Dorothea did not want to press the topic too much. Eventually, he had let her see more of him, see the ropey muscles and raised scars on his torso. She had traced one scar, a little half moon beneath his pectoral, mirrored on the other side, and he had flinched back. She had not done it again. 

Sometimes he brought a stap of smooth polished wood and drove it inside of her with the grace and finesse of a trained fighter. When he looked at her, she saw how his pupils dilated, how his face flushed. All of the signs of his want were there, but for the fact that he remained expressionless, silent but for a few quiet grunts and breathes. When it came to his own desires, she had done very little. She had kissed him and wrapped her legs around him and longed to touch more, but waited for him to ask. She wanted him to ask for more. 

“Felix,” Dorothea breathed against his ear as he pressed her into the sheets of her bed. “Felix, let me touch you.” 

“You are,” he replied softly, a faint shine of amusement in his eyes. His voice rumbled low in his chest and she dragged him closer to her. 

“Will you let me adore you?” she whispered, slowly tracing a hand down the side of his hips before pressing beneath them and reaching to caress between his legs. He closed his eyes, expression a mixture of pleasure and something else. “Let me make you feel as treasured and desired as you do to me? Please, Felix, allow me to make you sing.” 

Slowly, she pushed to the side and he allowed her, rolling over until he was on his back. She let her hand tease him through the thick fabric of his trousers, while she kissed him slowly and deliberately. 

“Is this what you want?” she breathed as his muscles tensed and a tiny sigh escaped from his lips. 

“Yes,” he murmured back. 

She unwound the tie from his hair until it lay long and dark and beautiful across her pillows. Slowly, she unlaced the front of his trousers and he lifted his hips slightly to allow her to slide them off. His thighs were powerfully muscled and she let her nails sink into him there until he hissed slightly and bit his bottom lip. 

Then finally, she dragged him free of his small clothes. Her eyes traced the dark hair that ran down from his stomach and her hands ghosted across the trace of wetness already on his inner thighs. He did want this, she thought with satisfaction. 

“May I look?” she asked, settling herself between his legs, still mostly closed. Felix’s dark gold eyes were fixed on the ceiling now, his jaw very tight, and his fingers digging into the sheets. “May I kiss you here?” 

“You don’t have to,” Felix finally said, his voice strained. 

“I want to,” Dorothea hummed as she instead pressed soft kisses to the inside of his thigh. “Felix, I want to show you how much I want you. As you have done for me again and again.” 

“It’s…” he said and then stopped himself. “Don’t worry about it. I can take care of myself.” 

“But I want to take care of you. I want to be gentle to you. And even if you leave tomorrow to a hard, difficult world, I want you to have something soft here to remember me by,” Dorothea said. 

Felix let his legs part a few inches. 

“Dorothea,” he sighed, face scarlet with want and with shame. “Dorothea, please. Touch me?” 

She needed no further persuasion. Slowly, she let his legs fall apart and saw pink wetness amidst the dark hair. She spread him open with her fingers, watching with wonder as he shivered and he squeezed his eyes tighter shut. His face was pink and she could feel the heat of his skin, his pulse thundering beneath her fingers. 

She traced around his entrance, collecting the moisture there and then gently began to rub it up, making small circles as his legs twitched. Dorothea smiled as she heard him make another quiet noise in the back of his throat. 

As she kept going, working on him slowly and increasing the pressure, he seemed to be opening up beneath her hands, baring a beautiful part of himself that he’d kept so closely guarded before. It was intoxicating to watch the way that his stomach tensed as he panted, the way that he reached one hand up to grip his own hair, the way that his legs tensed and rocked as he moved with her finger. 

Then she withdrew her finger and lowered her face down. 

“Saints in the heavens, Dorothea,” he groaned as her tongue licked up his length. “Ah! That’s…” 

She sucked gently at the hood of his cock and he seemed to lose the ability to speak. Dorothea could no longer see him, but she could feel him responding. His legs spread wider and he ground down against the press of her lips and tongue. She felt his muscles tremble and heard his cries go from near silent to loud enough that she actually began to worry for the neighbors. She tasted the salty slick that was now dripping from his entrance, moving briefly lower to probe her tongue inside of him. 

"May I use my hand?" she asked and Felix nodded frantically. He was wet enough to easily take two of her fingers curling inside of him. 

Felix was nearly weeping, his hips straining up from the bed. She wrapped her arms around his legs, licking insistently and rhythmically, pausing occasionally to suck or to hum with her lips. 

“Dorothea,” he panted, “Dorothea, I- I-”

Suddenly, he bucked forward, shaking against her, and she felt a gush of liquid squirt down her chin. Felix shuddered for a few more seconds and then went still, his hips lowering to the mattress again. 

Dorothea looked up at him and admired for a moment the blissful expression on his face. Then he slowly opened his eyes, looked down at her, and went bright red. 

“Oh,” he said, pulling his legs together and then looking with distress at the wet spot between them. “I’m sorry, that usually doesn’t-” 

“It was perfect,” Dorothea hummed happily, crawling up to curl against his chest. She held him as close as she could, licking some of the residual wetness from her swollen lips. Her jaw ached, but slowly, he relented and he drew her close. Wrapped in those powerful arms, she felt safe. Horribly vulnerable, and yet wonderfully safe. The dichotomy of their love. Silently, Felix pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Thank you,” he finally whispered. 

In the morning, he woke before she did, dressed silently, and put on hot water for tea before he left. 

“I suppose I’ll see you for the summer season, if you aren’t too busy with bandits and warlords and such,” she said, accepting a cup gratefully as she shrugged a robe on to keep her warm on such a cold morning. 

“I’ll be there,” Felix promised. 

Dorothea liked this part least. It was the only time that he reminded her of the other young noblemen who came to seek her out. The way he left in the morning, quiet and full of promises. Everyone made promises. 

“Well, I know you are no great lover of the emperor’s city,” Dorothea finally said, “so I’ll let you slip away. Summer will be a fine season. I hear there is to be an Almyran princess who falls in love with an enemy general.” 

“I-” Felix stopped to clear his throat. “Actually. I will have some time to return in Pegasus Moon. For my-”

He paused again. 

“To see a performance without that damned tonedeaf tenor spoiling your duet.” 

Dorothea turned away for a second to smile behind her hand. 

“I’ll be waiting,” she confirmed. “I’ll watch for you in the audience.” 

“I’ll be only another face.” 

“You will be the one I’m singing to.” 

She said it with a wink. But it was a confession. Dorothea had never lifted her voice to another. 

And even in those long months where he wandered the continent, trying so hard to make himself into that brutal creature she knew that he thought he was, she would keep singing him home to her. 

  
  



End file.
